The Story of Mother Wilma

Good afternoon dear friends!

My darling Aunt Jean

Just in from a decluttering and deep cleaning job.

Oh my - I live for this stuff - I swear.

It's my most favorite thing to see a mess get cleaned up, organized, and have the homeowner happy.

And don't even get me started on how much I love throwing things away.

I know what an incredible feeling it is to feel that you've got things 'under control' in the house.

I want to share the love.

: -)

Today I awoke to feathers lying about.

My heart is heavy, and the general tone of the coop today is one of bereavement.

Two fallen hens.

I suppose the blasted varmits are stirring again now that the temps have risen.

It's been a while since I've had a loss, but I never get used to it, or take it lightly.

It just upset me so, that the poor gals endured the Epic Winter of 2013/14 only to be slaughtered when the weather finally started changing.

Life is just too freaking cruel at times.

I'm not entirely sure - but I would suppose that the pecking order may need to be re-established somewhat. I did notice Lord Grantham being a bit skittish this morning.

They are all on edge.

In other news - I'm still clean of the demon sugar.

Amen.

Anyhow - today I wanted to tell you the story of Mother Wilma.

My mother Irene had four sisters.  They were all very close - Gladys, Jean, Pauline and Fran.

After my mother's passing, I became extremely close with my Aunt Jean.  Wilma Imogene, to be precise.

Aunt Jean and Aunt Gladys

I adored my Aunt Jean, and regretted that I didn't become close to her sooner - I was a little carbon copy of her.  We both loved to cook, bake, garden, knit, sew - you name it - she loved it.  She was also the type of person that just seemed that she had all the time in the world.  No matter when you'd visit or call - she was just very present with you.  You never felt rushed - you never felt that you were an imposition - it was as if she had been waiting for you all along - and you were her sole focus.

May I learn that lesson.

The woman could turn out a biscuit that would literally hover over the bread basket.  So light - so tender.  All without a recipe, just by feel.

When she fried chicken, you were in for a treat.  She'd literally put a chair in front of the stove and tend that bird - turning it over and over - putting the lid on - taking the lid off.  I never tasted anything like it.

Her pie crusts?  Ridiculous.

She gardened her heart out - and she was utterly heartbroken to finally have to give it up in her later years.

My love for her ran deep - and she was in Missouri, so I traveled there just as often as life would allow.  We became very close and I loved that I could see traces of my mother in her eyes, her hands and her smile.  What a comfort it was.  

I wanted to call her mom - but felt that well - maybe that was TOO much - and honestly - I do have such a tendency to be TOO much - so I called her jokingly 'Mother Wilma'.

She absolutely hated it - but it stuck!

I think it has a great ring to it, and I'm smiling now as I type this - remembering her beautiful spirit.

  She laughed with her whole body.

  The day she passed, I literally was on the road to Missouri within an hour.  I told my manager that if I had a job when I got back I'd appreciate it, but if I didn't - I would understand.

I did by the way.

As my beloved cousin Jim and I were going through things, we came across a little notebook where she had written down how many eggs she'd gotten each day from her chickens.

Oh how I loved her.

So - when I first drew my cartoon chicken, it just seemed fitting to name her Mother Wilma.

You might not be able to see it on here - but there is a little "W" brooch on her collar.

If you'd like to purchase some Mother Wilma cards - click here

I hope to have some new designs out soon - birthday cards and the like. 

And lest ye think I forgot...the winner of the serum and a packet of Mother Wilma cards is....

Comment #8

Mari!

Congrats Mari!

Y'all come back now, ya hear?